


Get Over You

by TheInevitableSense



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Break Up, Dancing, M/M, Nighclubs, finding closure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInevitableSense/pseuds/TheInevitableSense
Summary: An argument leaves Thomas and Alex drifting.





	Get Over You

The door slams behind Alex as he storms out of Thomas’ apartment. _Fucking asshole,_ he thinks, stomping down the hall and to the elevator. Part of him expects Thomas to come rushing after him to apologize, but instead Alex jams his finger on the call button and a few moments later he’s in the elevator and the door is shutting in front of him.

He slumps against the wall of the elevator, the sudden silence ringing in his ears. He’s completely alone in the small space, which leaves him free to start up speaking. “Goddamn it,” he mutters, running his hands through his hair. It doesn’t take long before he reaches the lobby of Thomas’ building, but he just keeps muttering to himself as he stalks out onto the street.

He manages to hail a cab and climb in back before he realizes he’s not sure where to go - where he _can_ go at all. But the driver is waiting so he stutters out John’s address on impulse and settles into his seat.

Alex glares out of the window, shooting daggers with his eyes as they drive. The anger in his chest starts to unwind some as the driver pulls up to John’s building and gives Alex his total. He pays, climbs out of the car, and starts the three story trek to John’s place. When he’s standing in front of the dark wood of John’s door, he hesitates before knocking.

The anger inside is unspooling, the raging inferno inside starting to cool somewhat as John opens the door. “Alex?” John asks, halfway out of his suit and tie. “What are you doing here?”

Alex fidgets in place. “Thomas and I got into a fight,” he explains, and his heart breaks in half. It hits him all at once now that the emotion is starting to fade. _Thomas and I got into a fight_.

\--------------

Thomas waits up all night for Alex to come back. By the time he’d come to his senses and ran out after him, Alex was already gone. He’d tried calling and texting, but to no avail. He just keeps getting that same voicemail: _Hi, you’ve reached Alexander Hamilton, if you’re calling for business, leave a message. If you’re a friend, just fucking text me like a normal person_.

So he alternates between sitting in his armchair and pacing the floor, hoping and praying that Alex comes home soon and - even if he doesn’t - that he’s safe. The rising of the sun shocks Thomas, even more so because Alex hasn’t walked back in the door yet. His phone hasn’t rang, Alex hasn’t read his texts, there’s been _nothing._

Thomas starts to worry as he gets ready, not wanting to go to work in case Alex comes back but knowing he has to. Besides, nothing could keep Alex out of the office, so it’s honestly more likely that’s where Thomas will find Alex. If Alex isn’t at work -

Thomas doesn’t want to think about that. So he busies himself by taking a shower, fixing his hair, carefully applying his dusting of makeup and getting dressed as best as he can. He pays attention to each and every detail in an attempt to distract himself, but it barely works. In the end, he looks great, but he feels like he’s ready to tear his hair out. The argument keeps playing over and over in his head, shouting voices pounding against the inside of his skull.

He calls an Uber for work, and when he comes out onto the street to get into the car, he can’t help but glance about in case Alex is around. But he doesn’t catch even a glimpse of his boyfriend before he climbs into the backseat and takes off for work.

\--------------

The blinking cursor on the document stares at Alex as he sits, slouched at his desk. There are piles and piles of files in front of him, cases he needs to summarize and parse through, but he can’t even bring himself to title the first summary. Though he’d stayed at John’s, he hadn’t slept, reliving the argument over and over again. The look on Thomas’ face as Alex had left won’t leave his mind’s eye, almost like it’s projected on the LED screen in front of him.

He stands, stretching his shoulders out. His back aches from a night on the couch as he shuffled out from behind his desk. _Coffee,_ he thinks. _That will let me focus. I’m just tired._ So Alex walks out into the hallway, gently slipping past other employees on the way to the breakroom.

Halfway down the hall, Alex spots him. That towering figure and poof of hair can’t belong to anyone but Thomas. His heart stops, leaping up into his throat as Thomas comes closer. Thomas looks great, his suit impeccable, his hair bouncing as he walks. His eyes glance up and meet Alex’s - there’s no bags under his eyes like there are under Alex’s.

_He’s fine,_ Alex realizes in one heart shattering thought. He quickly arranges his face to look as indifferent as possible, and a second later the look on Thomas’ face is the same. They look at each other for one long, hard moment, and then Thomas’ eyes slip away and he pushes past Alex.

Alex fights the urge to watch him go, watch him walk down the hall to his office, but instead keeps his eyes focused straight ahead. He can hear Thomas’ footsteps fade behind him until he ducks inside the breakroom.

Alex bolts for the coffee machine, hands starting to shake as he makes himself a cup of coffee. All he’s getting is black, but he’s struggling to do that small task. He jumps when a hand comes down on his shoulder.

“Hey,” someone says lowly, and Alex turns to find John.

“Hey,” Alex says, giving him the best smile he can manage.

“What did I say last night, time and space,” John reminds him. “If that doesn’t work I’ll punch him in the face.”

“Thanks John,” Alex mutters, not for the first time. He grabs his coffee and gently slips around John to head back to his office. For a split second, just as he was opening his office door, he swore Thomas was looking at him his office windows. But when he glances up, Thomas is nowhere to be seen and the blinds are drawn.

\--------------

Thomas waits by the door at the end of the day, staring at his phone, ready to order his ride. He’d been beyond relieved to see Alex in the hall, but the hard look he’d gotten had sent knives deep into his heart. He waffles over his ride, hesitating. The longer he waits the longer he’ll be here, stuck waiting for his ride he knows, but still. It feels odd not to be leaving side-by-side with Alex.

He glances up when he hears footsteps approach, and coming down the hall is Alex and John Laurens. He makes eye contact with Alex for a brief second, only to earn that same wall of indifference and blank emotion he’d gotten that morning. Laurens shoots him a look as well, one much angier, though not anywhere near the level of rage Thomas knows the man is capable of.

The two walk through the glass doors of the firm and Thomas forces himself to take a breath. _He’s safe,_ he thinks. _Laurens wouldn’t let anything hurt him. He’s safe, and he’ll come back_. Thomas glances down and orders his ride. When he looks up again, tiny sprinkles of rain have started to fall. Through the glass he can see Alex and Laurens pick up the pace, jogging to Lauren’s car.

Alex disappears into the passenger seat as Thomas settles against the wall. _He’ll come back,_ he reassures himself. _It might take a minute, but he’ll come back._ He glances around the room and spots two of the interns huddled by the opposite wall, watching Thomas with curious eyes.

\--------------

Someone on the news is screaming at someone else about something. Alex doesn’t know. Normally he’d be shouting along with it, but it just feels flat. Shallow.

“Want pizza?” John asks.

“We had pizza last night,” Alex responds.

“Well, is there anything else you want?”

Alex sighs, the images on the tv starting to blur as he doesn’t even put the effort in to focus his eyes. “...Pizza’s fine.”

“Mkay,” John says, already dialing. A few minutes later John plops himself down on the couch next to Alex. There’s a moment of silence, then: “You good?”

“I don't know what to do,” Alex admits. John hums, but doesn't say anything. “Did you see him today?” Alex asks, turning to look at John. “He looked like nothing even happened!”

John shrugs. “That's how he always looks at work.”

Alex frowns. “Sure, but…”

“He's probably waiting for you to apologize,” John says. Alex’s fists clench around the leather of John’s couch.

“He's the one who needs to apologize,” Alex says. John just shrugs again.

“You know him, he never thinks he’s the one in the wrong,” John says. Alex opens his mouth to protest, but then his brows furrow.

“Yeah,” Alex mutters. “Remember that time with my journal?”

“He never apologized for damaging it?”

“Nope,” Alex pops the ‘p’ hard, the anger from last night starting to reemerge. “Never apologized for locking us out of the apartment that one time or the q-tip thing. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ heard that man say the words ‘I’m sorry.’” A little voice in Alex’s head pipes up that that is _certainly_ not true, but Alex is starting to work himself up and when that happens he stops listening to little voices in his head.

John cocks an eyebrow and looks over at Alex, but Alex is still talking. “Oh, and he never…”

\--------------

The apartment is scarily silent without Alex.

Thomas isn’t used to the quiet. The quiet means Alex is trying to do something without Thomas noticing and that _never_ ends well. Like the time after the argument about Thomas always making dinner when Alex tried to hand-make pizza from scratch. Thomas had come into flour coating every surface of the kitchen and a flaming pile of dough.

So silence doesn’t sit well with Thomas. It just amplifies the ‘ _missing Alex_ ’ that’s taken over every waking moment of his life since Alex had left. He keeps wandering the house, looking for the next Alex disaster.

Not that Thomas was ever mad about Alex disasters, not really. Especially not now, when all he wants is his boy back.

But Alex will come home eventually. He’ll come home and apologize and it’ll all be right. Alex _will_ come back.

\--------------

Day three without Thomas hurts as much as day one, but each time Thomas passes Alex in the hall or walks past his office without dropping to his knees and begging for forgiveness Alex gets just the littlest bit angrier. It was Thomas’ fault, certainly the taller man has to see that?

So Alex paints the best hard expression on his face each time Thomas walks past and tries to ignore the way his heart twists at the same indifferent expression on Thomas’ face.

“How stubborn can one man be?!” Alex rails. John, from where he stands against his kitchen wall, shrugs. “It’s like he doesn’t even give a shit!”

“What if he doesn’t?” John asks. Alex looks up at John in shock. John sees this look and shrugs again. “What if he doesn’t give a shit?”

“John -”

“I’m not saying he never cared about you, but what if he’s okay with this?” John asks. “Have you considered that he’s okay with breaking up?”

Alex stops, looking down in thought. “He wouldn’t be,” Alex says. “He would have said something by now.”

“You’re the one who stormed out,” John reminds him. “He might assume that means you’re done too, and he doesn’t have to say anything.” A moment of silence passes and John’s hard exterior cracks a little bit. “I’m sorry Alex, but maybe it’s time you consider that that might just be the case.”

“It can’t be,’ Alex replies, shaking his head. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Thomas is… just being Thomas and he’ll apologize _eventually_. It’ll do him some good to crack and actually admit he was wrong for once.”

“What does he even have to apologize for?” John asks.

“Something!” Alex throws his hands up and starts to pace. “It’ll happen. Just you watch.”

\--------------

A week passes before it hits Thomas that Alex isn’t coming back. He’s making dinner, trying to decide whether or not to parse out a little extra in case tonight’s the night that Alex choses to come back that the thought of “When” turns to “if.”

And the moment “if” enters the equation is the moment the question of ‘When will Alex come home?’ is answered in Thomas’ head. Because ‘if’ implies that there’s a possibility Alex won’t come back. And once that option exists, it becomes all consuming reality.

The bowl falls from Thomas’ hands as the thought _‘Alex isn’t coming home_ ’ starts to repeat over and over in Thomas’ head. It’s a fact, why else would Alex have stayed away for a whole week? There were times Alex had gotten sad because work had kept them apart for a meager two days, and here they were, apart for a whole week and Alex still hadn’t apologized.

It’s not long until Thomas finds himself on the floor, curled over his knees and trying his best not to cry. There’s pasta sauce spilled across the floor and counter, but Thomas is too busy shaking to really care. He feels like he’s choking, otherwise he’d probably be screaming.

Alex really is that mad to just leave. Just leave and cut Thomas out of his life with such ease. Thomas tries to breathe, tries to staunch the tears cascading down his face. Each gasp he manages to steal is shuddering, he feels like he’s going to be sick.

He doesn’t know how long he stays huddled on the floor, feeling like his body is trying to turn itself inside out. He hasn’t broken down this bad in a long time, and when he finally hauls himself to his feet he feels like death. He’s numb as he slowly cleaning up his half-made meal, not even bothering to figure out what he can save and just tossing it all in the garbage.

He can feel the sticky tracks of tears on his face as he blankly makes his way to his bedroom. His head pounds and his legs shake with each step and he just wants to go to bed and make this all a bad dream. Just before he collapses into bed he spots the folded blanket on the other side of the mattress.

Alex always ran cold. That was just one of those little things Thomas knew about him that makes his heart twist as he stares at their compromise. Alex gets an extra blanket his side of the bed so Thomas doesn’t roast overnight.

Or, Alex _got_ an extra blanket. When he still lived here. Thomas feels his face start to screw up again as tears build in his eyes. Thomas lifts the comforter to crawl into bed, but thinks better of it and lays down on top of them all to wrap himself in Alex’s blanket instead.

It still smells like him.

The only reason Thomas sleeps that night is because he exhausts himself sobbing into the blanket.

\--------------

The next day, Alex gets home from work after John, having gotten caught in a last-minute argument with Burr over printer use or something. It doesn’t matter much anymore because there’s a box on John’s doorstep with Alex’s name on it in familiar looping handwriting.

Alex stares down at the cardboard box for a long moment, stomach sinking through the floor as he processes what this might mean. Alex opens the door and picks it up with hesitant, almost shaking hands. When he’s through the door, he kicks it shut and puts the box down on the kitchen counter.

“Alex, is that you?” John calls from somewhere.

“Yeah,” he calls back, garnering up the courage to open the flaps and face it. He takes a breath, though it doesn’t help much, and slowly peels open the box. Inside, he finds what he was afraid to find: his clothes, neatly packed tightly together. Toothbrush, hairbrush, collection of notebooks and planners.

Everything of his that was at the apartment. _Thomas’_ apartment now. They don’t share it anymore, it’s Thomas’, not his, not theirs. Thomas’.

“What’s that?” John asks, startling Alex. Alex, gripping the sides of the box like a lifeline, takes a shuddering breath.

“Proof that you were right,” he says. “Thomas really doesn’t… doesn’t…”

John is instantly there, wrapping his arms around Alex and pulling the man into the tightest hug he can manage in the moment before Alex bursts into tears. The familiar feel of John’s arms around him is comforting, and Alex squeezes back as he sobs into John’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” John mutters, holding Alex as close as possible. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“I _love_ him,” Alex stutters out, trying to find the air to speak. John nods, Alex can feel the shift of his head and hair against his own. “I wanted - I-”

“Let it out,” John says. “It’s all gonna be okay, just let it out.”

“I thought it was - it was gonna be us.” Alex balls his fists in the back of John’s shirt. “We were going to be forever.”

John stiffens slightly, running one of his hands up and down Alex’ back. “You’ll be alright.”

“It was gonna be us,” Alex repeats, muttering over and over to himself between bursts of sobs. John stands there with him, rocking back and forth in the kitchen. At some point, he starts humming, and the gentle vibrations of his chest and the heartbeat underneath give Alex something stable to latch onto.

When Alex finally draws back - hiccupping, the final tears still rolling down his face - John lets him go with some hesitance. “I should -” Alex looks over at the box, wiping his face despite the fresh threat of tears at the sight of that damned cardboard. - “I should find someplace to put that.”

“Alex…” John trails. Alex sniffs, feeling his face throb slightly.

“Could you maybe grab me some Advil? I have to decide which side of the couch to put this thing up against.” Alex carefully grabs the box. John watches him leave the kitchen with sad, sympathetic eyes before turning to root around a medicine drawer.

Alex drops the box on the floor next to the couch he’s been sleeping on, and absentmindedly sticks his hand down to feel along the folded clothes. He stops when he feels something _significantly_ softer and finer than the rest of his clothes, and Alex fights to pull it out.

When it’s held out in front of him, Alex realizes that Thomas must have made a mistake when packing his stuff up. The sweatshirt in his hands isn’t his, it’s one of Thomas’ old ones that he’d taken for himself once or twice. It’s so old that Thomas had had it before they even got together. Despite the age, it’s nicer than anything Alex owns, and it’s so soft between his fingers.

He figures he should return it, drop it off at Thomas’ or at his office, since that seems to be how they’re communicating now. But it’s so nice, and that obnoxious purple color Thomas loves, and when Alex brings it close he manages to get a whiff of Thomas’ cologne.

Alex decides right then and there that he’s going to keep it. If Thomas made the mistake of giving it to him, then Alex is damn sure Thomas isn’t getting it back. He shrugs it on, pulling the huge thing over his head as John comes into the living room with advil and some water. John doesn’t say anything about the sweatshirt, but his eyes glitter with recognition.

Alex reaches out with sweatshirt paws to take the offered medicine, feeling like he’s swaddled in the soft fabric. “Thanks,” he mutters, and takes the pills like a shot. The water follows soon after, and Alex sits there for a moment, completely lost as to what to do next.

John sits himself down on the couch and Alex leans into his side. John’s arm wraps around Alex’ shoulder and they sit there in silence until John orders them take-out and forces Alex to eat.

\--------------

Thomas can’t help but feel the tiniest bit dirty while he watches Alex as the man talks with Laurens in the hallway. Thomas makes sure not to move the blinds of his office window as he peers through the gaps. He could swear that Alex looks… better. He certainly looks more put together. His hair is back to its usual level of disheveled, not the veritable rats nest it’s been the last couple weeks.

“Stop it,” James says from where he’s sat behind Thomas. Thomas lets out a breath.

“Stop what?”

“Watching him.”

“Who says I’m watching him?” Thomas asks. “There’s a cute girl in the hallway.”

“Thomas,” James says, knowingly. Thomas hums, glances back at his friend. “I thought you said you were ready to let go.”

“You of all people should know that I don’t always say things I mean,” he says, but he does move away from the window. He sits down in his chair, looking across the chair at James. James looks back, stoic.

“Do you want to let him go?” James asks. Thomas sighs again, puts his elbows on the desk and drops his face in his hands.

“I don’t know,” he says. “If he wants to go then I have to.”

“ _Do you want to let him go_?” James asks again, pointed. Thomas looks over at the covered window like he can still see Alex at this distance.

“I don’t know,” he repeats.

James sighs. “Give it time. Figure it out.”

\--------------

“Come out with us,” John says, Lafayette and Hercules hovering behind him. Alex hesitates, wanting to burrow into the couch and drown himself in another season of _Criminal Minds_. John must see it across his face because he lets out a breath and crosses his arms. “You need to get out again _sometime_.”

Alex opens his mouth to say ‘next time,’ but then stops. It’s been three weeks. He’s rubbing a rut into John’s couch. He’s only been out for work and to get food occasionally. He looks at the tv, and back at his friends. Lafayette looks at him with gentle concern and Hercules looks like he’s about ready to pick Alex up and carry him out of his apartment.

“Give me five minutes to change,” he says. John breaks out into a huge smile, Laf lets out a deep breath and Hercules gives a little whoop. Alex grabs his box of things and slips into John’s room to change. He starts to dig through it, passing quickly by the work clothes and the one other set of sweatpants he owns. As he gets down to the bottom of the box he finds his usual clubbing clothes.

The jeans are a bit of a tight fit, he’s put on weight since he left Thomas, but he manages. He wrestles his two good shirts from the box, puts them on the bed for consideration, then stops. One of them is this shiny green thing he bought on a dare and ended up loving. The other is a slinky, low cut top. The sight of it makes his heart stop.

_You know what that shirt does to me_ , Thomas’ voice, heavy, whispered, growling echos in Alex’s head. He can almost feel Thomas’ hands on his sides, holding him tight and close to his chest, warm hands starting to creep up under the fabric -

Alex lets out a shuddering breath. He shakes his head, trying to clear the memory. This is _his_ shirt, not Thomas’. There’s nothing about it that makes it special to Thomas. Still, he can remember the way Thomas’ lips felt on his neck, trailing down wards, tracing the collar of the shirt.

Alex clenches his jaw, looks at the two shirts in front of him, and makes a decision. He puts the green one away and grabs the slinky one. He needs new memories with it.

When he walks back out into the living room, Hercules gives him a wolf whistle. “There he is!” he says. Alex gives a half smile, feeling a slight warmth inside his stomach start to undo the knots in it.

“What are we waiting for?” Alex asks, mustering up every ounce of confidence he has.

\--------------

Thomas should have guessed the world hated him enough for it to let this happen. He had _deliberately_ avoided all the old spots to keep from running into Alex or any of his friends. He should have thought Alex would have had the same idea, but even then the odds of them picking the same club on the same night in all of New York City were astronomical.

But there he was, one cocktail down, watching Alex from across the dance floor. Thomas was seated at the bar, he was sure neither Alex nor any of his group had spotted him. He ought to leave, make sure it stays that way, but he can’t help his curiosity.

He watches as Laurens pulls a reluctant Alex onto the dancefloor, the two of them starting up a mock sort of friendly dance. John has to bring Alex into it, but soon Alex is dancing like he always did - like he always did with Thomas. And he’s even wearing that _one_ shirt.

The sight of it hurts, but not as much as when Thomas sees Alex start to mingle with the rest of the pulsing crowd. Thomas loses track of him for a minute or two, and then finds him again grinding on some guy with spiky hair. Alex disappears again for a moment, then Thomas finds him with some woman in a low-cut top, hands on her hips.

Thomas turns to flag the bartender down. He orders another shot, downs it and takes a moment to clear the burn from his throat. When he turns back around, he doesn’t have to search the crowd long to find Alex in the middle of it with his tongue in another man’s mouth.

It’s a punch to the gut, yes. It threatens to bring tears back to Thomas’ eyes. But he’s not angry like he would have been if it had been even a month ago. He’s not jealous. He doesn’t have the urge to walk out onto the dance floor and claim Alex for himself again.

When Thomas realizes that, he sucks in a harsh breath. Suddenly the tears aren’t as present behind his eyes. When he breathes out, its with a weird tranquility with the sight in front of him. It hurts like a bitch, sure, but not as much as Thomas thinks it should.

He pays for his drinks and leaves the club, thoughtful, pondering.

\-------------

Maybe getting drunk and making out with a stranger wasn’t the best idea, but Alex feels on top of the world. He feels free, even in morning when his head is pounding. His chest feels lighter than it’s been in seemingly forever. There’s a strange number in his phone, he’s still in last night’s clothes and he feels _amazing_.

The high doesn’t last forever, especially with the headache, but he actually feels _better_. It’s an odd feeling - feeling better.

He texts the guy from the club, quickly finds out he’s an asshole, and blocks the number. When he tells John about it, John just rolls his eyes, plopping alka-seltzer tablets into two glasses of water.

“People are just like that sometimes,” is all he says. Alex nods. People are just like that sometimes.

Alex takes the glass from John when it’s offered to him, and he downs it like a shot. He coughs a little, he always hated that taste. John goes shuffling through the kitchen, getting the coffee going and Alex just watches him. He’s always thought John was attractive, and watching him simply going through the motions to make coffee makes Alex’s heart warm.

Maybe it’s just the domesticity, maybe it’s just the kindness John’s shown to him over the last few weeks, maybe it’s something that’s always been there in a tiny amount, but Alex thinks that he could maybe get used to this.

He puts the glass down on the counter and resolves to figure out what he’s feeling another time. If it stays, he’ll wait a little. Alex wouldn’t want John to just be a shitty rebound. When John turns around to hand Alex some coffee he does it with this look in his eyes that Alex can’t believe he never noticed before.

No, John won’t just be a rebound. Which means Alex needs to wait a little, fool around with a couple other people first. Get his feet back under him. Then, and only then, if John’s still interested then maybe Alex would give it a shot.

\--------------

Thomas spends Sunday in the same quiet contemplation he left Saturday in. He plays violin for a couple hours. He tries out a new recipe for chocolate chip cheesecake he finds online. He even spends some time drawing meaningless circles in a notebook. Anything to keep his body busy as his brain finally start to sort through everything from the last month or so.

He quickly realizes he can’t even really remember what their argument had been about, but he remembers the aftermath very clearly. He feels oddly objective as he sorts through his recent experiences and feelings. All the pain and grief and longing is all distilled into something Thomas looks at like he’s looking at a specimen in a jar.

There are moments in the day he starts to feel it all well up inside him, sure, but he focuses on a tricky chord progression or the pattern he’s doodling until it fades and he can continue his thinking.

By the time the sun sets, Thomas has reached his conclusion, and by extension, his decision. Even if they could remember what the argument was about, even if they could work it out, Thomas knows there’s been too much damage dealt. Feeling oddly light, like he’s floating a little in his own head, he walks up to his bedroom and looks himself in the mirror.

“Okay,” he says to himself. “It’s over. Time to move on.”

\-------------

Monday morning Thomas and Alex find themselves in the break room at work. There’s a tension in the air, everyone around them _knows_ something happened between them. Alex makes his coffee while Thomas scans the cabinets for any more of the good firm stationary. They work in silence, separated by a good fifteen feet or so.

Alex turns around the same time Thomas does. The room around them seems to stiffen, but they just look at each other. None of the tension that there’s been in Thomas’ body is there. Alex looks Thomas in the eye again for the first time in a while.

There’s a long pause. They just look. Almost as if they were telepathic, something passes between them in that moment. Something intangible, something indescribable, something kind and gentle but hard and final at the same time.

And then they share a slight smile, and they leave the break room through opposite doors.

The room exhales.

**Author's Note:**

> This one's been sitting in my WIPs for forever, and I finally found the impetus to finish it. That might explain why the tone/style shifts a bit in the middle. It had a different ending originally, but I needed it to end this way.
> 
> Come scream at me on Tumblr [here](https://theinevitablesense.tumblr.com/)


End file.
